Chapter 4

The sun hit its noon position and we reached out up river camp, just as my Ma predicted. She was good like that, wise like that. Sourface stepped off the boat onto the grassy bank, breathing in deeply; tasting the freedom from the oppressive wood. He stretched and sighed,

“You smell that, good clean air.” He turned back to face the twin mountain, gouged down the centre by the river. “You see that, you didn’t get me, did you? You stupid giant rock, I braved you and survived.” This was quite a display. I knew that the city people feared the mountain, but I didn’t realise they took it this far. My Da whispered to me as he passed,

“Only cowards declare their own bravery.” Sourface glanced, at us, as if he had heard, but simply smiled again. My Ma ushered my Da along as they unpacked the boat, taking what supplies we didn’t use and storing them in our upriver hut. I helped them and when I returned outside Sourface was strolling around whistling to himself. Travis and Rippen stood off to one side, I smiled at Travis, but he just stared sadly back at me.

“Right oh, right oh,” called Sourface, “Come along, don’t stay in that hut forever, we need to pay you and get moving.” My Da stepped out of the hut, pushing me behind him.

“Go help your Ma,” he said. I nodded and scampered off but I could still here him through the open door. “That’s okay my lord, your guards have already seen to that. You just be on your way and we’ll be on ours, no hard feeling.” I heard Sourface bark a laugh, a short harsh laugh, containing none of the joy or happiness found in the belly.

“Oh no, oh no no no no no,” he said, “You don’t seem to understand.” His voice was working up now, “I will not be mocked, not by lords and ladies, not by merchants,” he was fully shouting now, “and I’ll be damned if I’ll be mocked by a puntsman and his family! You thought I didn’t know, you thought me ignorant to your little game. Well I knew! AND I WILL NOT BE MOCKED!”

“Falric, come on,” it was my Ma. She was by the back door to the hut, looking scared. I had never seen my Ma look scared before, never. It’s like having a bucket of ice thrown over you. Suddenly everything is more real, more heightened, danger becomes more present. I rushed over, as I did I heard my Da’s voice.

“Now now, it was only a bit of fun to pass the time. No harm was meant by it.”

“Is that what I was to you,” screamed Sourface, “A way to pass the time? How dare you, how dare you mock a son of the family Graun.” My Ma grabbed my shoulders, stopping me from turning around, and steered me out the back door. She pushed me in front of her and we ran. But not before I heard the cold, precise sound of drawn steel. I heard that sound and I panicked. They were going to hurt my Da. They were going to hurt him. I couldn’t let them, not my Da. I twisted sharply out of my Ma’s grasp and ran back through the hut and out onto the grassy back the other side. I saw Travis and Rippen with their swords drawn, slowly advancing on my Da, who clutched his punting bar.

“This is nothing personal Mr. Whister,” said Travis.

“For what it’s worth,” added Rippen, “We like you, and your boy. But,” he paused looking back at Sourface, “It’s you or us.”

“Now boys,” said my Da, “It doesn’t have to be this way, you don’t need to get hurt.” Sourface laughed at this,

“Hear that boys, the punter with his punt stick is going to hurt you.” He laughed again at the ludicracy of it. No, I couldn’t let them hurt my Da, not him, no. They had drawn swords and thick meshes of chain mail. I started running down the grassy bank. I remember it so clearly. The sun was warm on my face, and air smelt of spring after a storm. It was the most beautiful of days.

Rippen stepped forward but before he could set his feet my Da whipped the end of his punting stick round with unbelievable speed, hitting the guard in the temple. He carried the blow around until it was pointing at Travis and jabbed it sharply at him before Rippen had even hit the floor. But Travis was quick and lent sideways, only taking a glancing blow to the head. He looked shocked and quickly took too paces back. He gazed intently as he re-evaluated his opponent. He stepped forward and my Da jabbed again, missing but bringing the other end of the staff around in one fluid motion. Catching Travis on the shoulder this time. Then he jabbed again, this time for the chest. Travis swept his sword across his body, knocking the jab of course. But my Da seemed to be expecting it as he stepped forward and dropped the makeshift staff, grabbing Travis’s sword hand and belt. He yanked the younger man towards him and cracked his head forward, head butting him. Rippen was slowly stirring behind him now, pulling his arms under him to lever himself up.

I saw all this as I continued to run full pelt down the hill. My Da kneed the dazed Travis in his groin causing him to hunch over. Almost in the same motion he placed his foot back down and pulled the guard past him to sprawl on the ground. He turned around and kicked Rippin in the head, sending him back to unconsciousness. Our eyes met, and I saw a different man, he was like an enraged bear. He oozed strength and grace. He moved with the elegance of a gazelle and the power of four hundred pound tiger. My run faltered. This wasn’t my Da, the gentle punter, this was someone completely different. But then the moment passed and I saw my father again, smiling at me.

“It’s okay Falric, go back to your Ma,” he called. I glanced back up slope to the hut. My Ma was standing in the door. I turned back to say something to him. But I have forgotten what it was, I like to think it was something caring, something to tell him how much I loved him. But the words stopped on my lips as I saw Sourface behind him. I started to call but it was too late. A quick, jerky movement by Sourface and my Da tensed. He looked at me, then at Ma and smiled. Whispering something softly to himself he stumbled forward, off Sourface’s blade. I couldn’t hear it, but it seemed to offer him peace. His body tumbled forward into the dirty; his head slapping with ruthless finality on the ground. And so my Da died. He died with a smile on his face, looking at my Ma and I. It makes me want to cry, even now.

Sourface laughed, “You see that? You see that boy! That’s what happens when you cross a Graun.” I had completely frozen now, looking at the corpse of my dead farther.

“Da,” I croaked to myself. “Please Da, please. Please don’t be dead.” But he lay there on the ground; still. Once bright, laughing eyes now splattered with mud. Dead. I stood there mortified as Sourface stood leering. His bloody knife dripping crimson. Travis slowly got to his feet.

“I’m sorry boy,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut it,” barked Sourface, “Get the other two and let’s move.” Travis started to protest but was cut off by Sourface. “Do it,” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. Travis swallowed his objection and turned to me. I didn’t’ know what to do. I just stood there. A rabbit, caught in the lamplight. A rabbit in need of saving.

I felt my Ma’s hands on me, I was dimly aware of the fact that she must have run down the hill to get me. She spun me round, picked up my frail five year old body and started to run back up the hill. I was aware we were moving, and I could feel her breath coming in ragged gasps against the back of my head. I must have been facing over her shoulder, if I was I can’t remember what I saw, maybe I’ve blocked the memory out, maybe I was too traumatised to take it in. But I could feel her breath becoming more laboured with each step as I was held limply in her arms. Then I was on the floor. We must have stumbled, or her legs gave out I thought dispassionately. My mind having entered into a state of emotionless objectivity.

“Run Falric, run!” she screamed. But I just sat there, looking at her. The tears streaming down her face. “Run my love,” she called again. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. I heard words but they meant nothing to me. I reached out and touched the tears on her face. I remember everything clearly now, as if it had been a moment ago. I remember as the sword pierced her neck, and I remember the look of fear on her face. Not fear for herself, but for her son. I remember her wet tear stained cheeks. I remember when the life left her eyes. I looked up to see Travis holding the blade. He looked back over his shoulder, listening. He called something in response, then looked back down at me, then back over his shoulder and shook his head. Bending down he grabbed me by the scuff of my collar and dragged me up to face him. I was a rag doll in his hands, I made no move to resist or call out as he drew his knife.

“I am so sorry, boy,” he said; then he stabbed me, hard. I felt the blade punch through my side twice. I coughed blood, and then I blacked out.

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There is no point in going into lurid description; for all intents and purposes I thought I had died. That does not mean that I forgot though, I remember. I remember that day. I remember the day my parents died. I consider this my third failure. I could not save them, and they died to save me.